Harry Potter and the Immortal Man
by The Quill of Gryffindor
Summary: On 25th July 1978, the Order of the Phoenix rescued a man from Voldemort's clutches and inducted into their ranks. This man would change the beginning of Harry Potter's life. Summary doesn't give much away on purpose.
1. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter and the Immortal Man.**

**Chapter One: The Man-Who-Pulled-Tongues-At-Voldemort.**

Hello, fine readers from the realm of ! Now, I would like to introduce...this story! This is one of my personal favourites! I know that many people have already read the original first chapter I put up, but I had a change of heart! I seemed to rush the introduction of the story a bit, so I decided to split the first chapter into three and then write more material afterward! The first chapter now is completely new material, whereas chapter two and three are parts from the original chapter!

I hope you all enjoy and please keep reviewing! **I do not own Harry Potter**...no matter how much I want too.

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**Date:** 11th September 1976

**Location:** Location Unknown

**Time:** 04:26am

"Merlin; this guy weighs a ton." He said as he hefted the man onto his back.

Three days previously, their master had ordered the locating of a specific man, with instructions that should they fail, not to return. Such an order from the dark lord meant that the task was usually suicidal – either with the completing of the mission, or returning empty handed – both were a sure death sentence.

After tracking the man to a house in London, a group of twenty seven men attacked the residence to retrieve the man of interest. The death eaters were unsure why so many men would be needed for the capture of one man…they soon received their answer. Of the twenty seven that attacked, thirteen were dead within minutes. The man was obviously a very powerful wizard; hence the suicidal nature of the mission was fulfilled. He cast spells in a continuous string, never saying the incantations, making it extremely difficult to counter his attacks. He was an unpredictable fighter – one of the best they had seen.

In the end, only two of the original group survived. There was no stunning, no disarming, like the fashion used by the Order of the Phoenix; just bone breakers, blood boilers and exploding hexes. The house was a mess, drenched in the blood of the attackers and blackened by spell fire.

One lucky death eater, the one now carrying the heavy man, caught their target in the back with a rogue stunner, bringing him down long enough to bind him with a magical suppressing bracelet. The second survivor cast the dark mark, signing their crime, before the pair portkey'd away with their prize. They re-appeared in a dark forest near a stately, but foreboding manor house.

"Bloody hell, are you a moron? Levitate the bastard if he's heavy, or did you not learn that in Hogwarts?"

The death eater carrying the unconscious man scowled at his comrade, before dropping his load to the ground, unceremoniously, eliciting a groan of pain from the man. With a flick of his wand the man was hit by a body binding curse and levitated off the ground. They continued walking toward the house, until they saw the guards by the door.

"Hey up, they're back! Did you get him or…holy shit, they actually got the bastard!" He stared agape, as they walked through the doors, at the unconscious man. One of the survivors from the attack snorted angrily – apparently, everyone had known how dangerous this man was but them.

The corridors of the manor house were dimly lit and were painted black, with many snake fixtures all over the rooms. There was a damp, musty smell which attacked the senses, making prolonged stay in the house extremely unpleasant. Finally, the pair approached a solid black oak door, which stank of pure evil and darkness. Even the death eaters hesitated before touching it. One of the survivors raised his hand to knock, but before he could, was interrupted by a snake like hiss from inside the room.

"Enter." The two men shivered before opening the door and walking inside, averting their gaze to the ground. While they dare not look at their master, they could feel his red, unforgiving eyes burning into their heads as he stared. "So, you return. I hope you succeeded, otherwise I am unsure why you returned." The men began to shake in fear and sweat dripped down their faces.

"M-my lord," one of the men began, "we succeeded in retrieving the man you asked for." The dark lord sat back in his seat and smiled coldly, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"Indeed? I assume this is him?" The death eaters nodded, one grabbing his hair and pulling it back so their master could see his face. "Excellent work – you have impressed me greatly." He paused and leaned forward in his throne. "Where are your comrades? Did I not send over twenty men to retrieve this prize?" One of the survivors shook much harder, drawing his master's attention. "Well?"

"My lord, w-we are all that is left. The rest were cut down by the target. He fought us ruthlessly, never once using a stunner or disarming spell." The dark lord's smile grew as he stared at the unconscious man.

"Indeed? This wizard cut down twenty five of my minions?" He tapped his chin with his wand. "Wake him." One of the death eaters nodded and drew his wand.

"_Ennervate_." The man awoke with a groan and looked around his location. Realising he had gotten himself caught, he swore silently, chastising himself for allowing them to get the better of him.

Voldemort studied the man, noticing he shared the same red eyes as he, but had a mane of coal black hair. Apart from that, he looked a lot like he did before he left Hogwarts. Bringing down his wand, he lifted his chin to meet his gaze, scarlet meeting scarlet. He was surprised to note his eyes held no fear, nor anger. They were remarkably emotionless.

"Ah, so at last we meet. I must say, it is a pleasure to meet a man as accomplished as you; one who has achieved greater things than Dumbledore and I combined." The prisoner smirked and bowed his head slightly, as a gesture of respect.

"Then I shall return the greeting and gesture of respect." The man amused the dark lord. Not many would willingly meet his gaze, let along speak so informally with him. "Might I ask why I have brought before your presence?" He asked politely. Voldemort settled back into his throne, his wand still in his hand.

"I have brought you here because I have heard rumours…rumours of a man, who like I, has cheated death and found the key to immortality." The prisoner's eyes widened and for a moment, he looked shocked, before slipping back into his emotionless state. The dark lord smiled internally. He had the right man.

"I'm afraid I know nothing of those rumours, therefore am unlikely to be of any use." The dark lord let out a chilling laugh, which made the two death eaters shiver violently. Voldemort's red eyes met the prisoners once more and he smirked slightly.

"You cannot lie to me, Antony Middleway." The prisoner paled at the mention of his name. "You see, I know a lot about you, and about your many lives." The man steeled himself.

"Why am I here, _Riddle_?" He asked emphasising the name. The dark lord's eyes flashed in anger, and in a swift movement, he rose to his feet and brought his wand down upon the prisoner.

"_CRUCIO_!" He bellowed. The prisoner twitched slightly, but his eyes never left that of the dark lord's. Inwardly, Voldemort was impressed; there were none among his inner circle, not even Bellatrix, who could remain still while under a full strength torture curse. The prisoner began to laugh, infuriating the dark lord, who cast the spell several more times, with the same result.

"You know, you should really work on your anger _Tom_." The prisoner delighted in watching the snake like man's face turn red with rage as he tried to cause him pain. "It can't be healthy turning that colour on a regular basis." Voldemort snarled and sat back down in his throne, glaring at the prisoner.

"Take him to the dungeons and chain him up." He said calmly, although you could see the anger simmering below the surface. "Oh, and he doesn't need to arrive there intact." The death eaters grinned evilly – they would get to have some fun torturing him after all. Before they could leave the dark lord swept down and grabbed the prisoner by the throat, holding him up. "Mark my words, _Middleway_, I may not be able to kill you, but I can make your life hell. You _will_ help me, before I'm through." The prisoner grinned, and quite immaturely, he pulled a tongue at the most feared wizard in the magical world.

As the death eaters dragged him away, laughing all the time, one man watched the display, his eyes widened in shock and respect for the man. He turned around and made his way outside – he needed to inform Albus of this individual.

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Its a bit of a short one, but this is a sort of prologue to the story. Just explaining a bit about the character and how the story starts! Those who already read my original chapter, this is just a prelude to that one! New material is coming! This story excites me greatly! I have great things in mind for it!

Do feel free to review! I like reviews that give me constructive criticism, but no flames!

**This is the Quill, signing off!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Is this a rescue?**

Hello people of ! I have recently updated this chapter! I hope you enjoy and new chapters will follow!

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Date: 25th July 1978

Location: Near Delamere Forest

Time: 11:36pm

With a flash of blue light, a small group of adults appeared in a quiet field in the dead of night. Immediately, a collection of wands shot out of their holsters and scanned the surrounding area. A gruff "Clear!" brought them out of their analysis of the dark lands around their position and they gathered around a tall, elderly white haired man with a long beard, staring intently, waiting for their instructions. He looked at each of them individually before speaking.

"We know our mission: infiltrate the enemy stronghold and search for the 'prisoner'." They nodded. "From the information garnered by one of our spies, we believe that the man we're looking for is being held in the basement level, which they have turned into a rudimentary dungeon. We need to be quick – we cannot allow ourselves to be surrounded – they outnumber us greatly, but the risk of allowing this individual to slip through our grasp is too great." The group nodded hesitantly, but a man with an electric blue eye which span disconcertingly in random directions spoke up with a growl.

"Albus; who the hell is this guy that you're willing to risk the lives of six Order members to rescue? Why is he so important?" The man barked. The man identified as Albus sighed.

"Alastor, the man the death eaters have imprisoned will be extremely important to the war effort." He said cryptically. "I cannot go into further detail, but suffice to say, I would willingly lay down my life to ensure he escapes tonight." The members of the group were shocked at this information, prompting Alastor to reply with a grunt.

"If you say so Albus…I trust your judgement." He mumbled. Albus smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Thank you, old friend." He sobered immediately and turned his attention back to the group. "Now, the building is protected by a number of wards, not including the _Fidelius_. Clearly Voldemort," there were a number of flinches, "did not see the need to ward the property completely." He turned to a woman with flaming red hair and a much older woman with grey.

"Lily, Minerva, can you break down the wards to allow us access?" They both nodded. He turned to the four men in the group with them.

"James, Sirius, I want you two to move in past the wards in your animagus forms to scout the area." They nodded and changed into a Stag and Dog, bounding away into the night.

"Alastor, Frank, we will disillusion ourselves and wait until the wards are down. After they have been dropped, we will move in and remove any 'obstacles' outside the property, are we all clear?" They nodded.

"Excellent." He smiled tightly. "Then let us begin. We need to be as quick as possible – use any and all spells to secure the prisoner."

The women identified as Minerva and Lily began muttering various incantations to thin air, occasionally waving their wands at the open space. After three minutes and thirty two seconds, they turned to the bearded man and nodded. Smiling grimly at the other two men, he whispered quietly.

"Once more into the breach…"

Date: 25th July 1978

Location: Delamere Forest safe-house

Time: 11:41pm

While the mysterious group were plotting outside the wards, two men sat chatting to each other in the basement of the safe house. Their presence there was solely in the name of guarding a rather unassuming man who was chained up on the wall, his hair matted and his head bowed. They were unaware what he had done to incur their master's disfavour, and surprised that he had not simply been killed – as was the normal treatment for minions who had failed their 'lord'.

"I 'eard he was a murd'rer," one whispered excitedly, "killed about twenty-five of us before he was tak'n down." The other snorted dismissively.

"Don't be stupid – if he was just a murderer, then why has our master kept him alive? Why not just kill him?" The other was silent. "I think the dark lord needs him for something…" He started. Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a cool voice from behind the steel bars.

"Perhaps your half-blood master is simply _afraid_ of me." The chained man raised his head and smirked at their spluttering. "He can't bare facing me, let alone killing me, so he lets me rot in this decrepit house, out of sight and out of mind." One of the men jumped to his feet and drew his wand.

"You dare call the dark lord a half-blood, you filthy blood traitor?" He snarled angrily. "Our master is pure and afraid of no one!" The man in chains smirked.

"That's true…except for Dumbledore of course…we all know Voldie is shit scared of him." The man growled and was about to cast a spell when the house shook with a loud explosion. The second guard jumped up and shook worriedly, his wand pointing in all directions in paranoia.

"W-wha the 'ell was tha'? He asked frantically. His companion immediately shushed him and moved to the locked entrance. Before he could open it, the large metal door blew off its hinges and crushed the man under its weight. The second guard gasped and fumbled with his wand before he was taken down by a silent red stunner. The prisoner watched this whole scene with interest.

"Is this a rescue?" He pondered out loud.

As he watched, a man and a woman, with raven black and red hair respectively, walked in pointing their wands at the dead/incapacitated death eaters. The woman moved to the bars and with a slash of her wand, cut through them like a knife through butter. She stepped in and moved to the prisoner, before being stopped by the man.

"Wait, Lils. We don't know why he was a prisoner. He could be dangerous." She nodded in understanding and stepped back, her wand trained on him. The chained man snorted and glared at the other man.

"I have been chained up here for two years. I have been forced to wear a magical suppression bracelet for the same amount of time. I believe that I would prove to be a _negligible_ threat." He said calmly. The other man's eyes narrowed, before he nodded and moved to the man. Imitating the slashing motion of the woman, he cut the chains holding him aloft and the prisoner fell to the ground.

His knees were weak. It took a moment to steady his feet, but using the wall, he levered himself to a standing position and swayed dangerously. Regaining his balance, he stretched his arms and cracked his back, to which the woman wrinkled her nose in disgust. Laughing, he dusted himself down and took a deep breath.

The prisoner had coal black hair, which was extremely matted and grubby, scarlet eyes, which twinkled with a shrewd intelligence and his face held an almost permanent lopsided grin. He was fairly tall and well built, but his form had not dwindled as one might have expected from two years imprisonment. He wore tattered robes which looked like they hadn't been cleaned in months.

"Thank you both. Finally, free at last." He shook himself before grinning at the pair. "Well then. Shall we go?" He motioned to the gap in the bars with his hand.

Without waiting for his rescuers, he stepped through the gap and strode out the door. The man and woman blinked at the doorway for a moment, before turning tail and chasing him out of the dungeon.

As they reached the outside, having passed mounds of dead or dying death eaters, they walked over to a group of five other adults. A bearded man smiled at him and offered his hand.

"Ah, Mr Weaver, it is a pleasure to meet you again." A smile crept across his face and his hand met the aged wizard's.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Dumbledore." Before any more could be said, they were interrupted by a growl from a man in the group.

"Albus, we do not have time for pleasantries. Death eater reinforcements are likely to be here soon." Dumbledore sighed and pulled a sock from his pocket. Pointing his wand at it and muttering _Portus,_ he held out the item of clothing to the prisoner. He eyed it warily, before taking it gently.

He was immediately engulfed in a familiar naval-jerking sensation and after a few moments, arrived in a dark room surrounded by over twenty wizards and witches pointing their wands at him. Raising his hands slowly in a surrender gesture, he shook his head at the group.

"Why do I get the feeling I have just switched one prison for another?" He muttered.

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter and continue to read on! New chapters coming soon!

**This is the Quill, signing off!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: The Immortal Man.**

Hello my friends! This is the updated version of this chapter! When I read it back, parts of it were a bit...rubbish to be perfectly frank. As such, I went back and did some work on it! I hope you enjoy! Further chapters coming soon!

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Date: 26th July 1978

Location: Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

Time: 12:05am

The prisoner looked around the room at the large amount of wizards and witches, with their wands pointed directly at him. He grinned and chuckled lightly.

"I'm loving the welcoming party – you sure know how to make a guy feel at home." Before anyone could respond, Albus, Alastor, Lily, Minerva, James, Sirius and Frank appeared in the room in a blue flash, all touching a length of string. Noticing the volatile scene, Dumbledore drew his wand and stepped forward to stand by the prisoner.

"Put down your wands – all of you!" The wands slowly fell from a pointing position. "Mr Weaver is a friend and an ally." Alastor interrupted.

"How do we know that Albus; the man was being kept prisoner by _Voldemort_ and we don't know why. Surely he must have done something to warrant that level of displeasure?" The prisoner laughed and all eyes turned to him.

"Are you telling me you rescued me without any idea who I am?" Albus raised an eyebrow. "Bar Albus, since we have met before." The group looked around, confusion reigning on their faces. The prisoner sighed and sat down in a squishy armchair.

"Albus, you need to start telling people _why_ they are doing things. You can't just send people to rescue me without any background information about who I am." He noticed a few nods in the group which made him smile. He stood up and held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "Hello, my name is Jonathan Weaver – pleasure to meet…well, all of you." At first no one met the hand, but it was soon joined by a small, feminine one.

"Nice to meet you Mr Weaver, my name is Lily Potter." He smiled at her and shook her hand.

"Well, that's one…anyone else?" Again, there was a brief pause before his hand was met by a firm grip. The man who had rescued him from his cell smiled at him before shaking his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Weaver, my name is James Potter." The prisoner's eyes widened and his smile grew.

"Ah, are you two married?" They nodded and smiled at each other. "Well congratulations! Was it recent or have you been married a while?"

"Not too long; only for a few months." Lily replied. James' handshake with the man prompted the men who were identified as Sirius and Remus to greet him too. Any more shakes were interrupted by a growl from Mad-eye.

"Enough with the pleasantries, we still haven't established why we rescued him from that manor!" Jonathan turned to him and frowned slightly.

"Not a very polite chap, are you?" He sighed and sat back down. "I was captured by Voldemort" there were a number of shivers "because he wanted me to…_help_ _him_ in a complicated science."

"What do you mean, Mr Weaver?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Could you please use my first name? I really hate the formality of 'Mr Weaver'. Just call me Jonathan or John, whichever." Sirius nodded. "The reason Voldemort imprisoned me is because, due to an accident, I cannot die. I am…immortal." He said with a flourish of his hands. The room was completely silent, filled with a number of disbelieving faces. The man shrugged and plopped down into an empty seat, prompting Albus to step in.

"My friends, Mr Wea…_Jonathan_ is correct." He corrected at the prisoner's glare. "This is one of the reasons I suggested we went after him." The room gasped and looked in awe at the prisoner. The prisoner yawned slightly and rubbed his face with his hands, which became covered in muck.

"Mr Dumbledore, I don't suppose I could get myself cleaned up and possibly get some new clothes? I could also do with a new wand but that will have to wait until I go to Gringrotts…" Albus nodded and smiled at the prisoner.

"Indeed, I'm sure you could do with a good clean, Jonathan." The prisoner laughed. "Head up the stairs and use the second room on your right; there is a bath in there and some clothes that will shrink to fit." The prisoner nodded and disappeared up the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Alastor turned to Dumbledore.

"You have got to be joking, Albus." He said loudly. "No person can make themselves immortal – it's just not possible. Sure, life can be prolonged but eternal life…" Albus raised his hand and looked over his spectacles at the knarred faced man.

"Alas, you are mistaken. Mr Weaver is an exception to our accepted views of time and causality. In fact, we should wait for him to return – he understands his…_situation_…better than anyone." Mad-eye reluctantly nodded, and the group moved to the large meeting table to wait for the presence of the rescued prisoner.

After ten minutes of wait, a much cleaner and tidier looking version of Jonathan Weaver stepped through the door, brushing some invisible lint from his shoulder. Noticing the gathering, he made his way to the only empty seat and sat down.

"I guess you all want explanations." They all nodded. "Alright then, but please don't interrupt. This will go a lot quicker without you…questioning me." He settled back into his seat and steepled his fingers together.

"When I was born, I had an unnatural control over my magic from a very young age, one that most adults never achieve. As I got older, my mind grew to match my ability to manipulate magic. It was and is as sharp as a goblin blade. Very soon, my peers labelled me a 'prodigy' with witches and wizards coming from all over the world to teach me and to be taught.

"Before my twelfth birthday, I was well known as a talented rune-maker and arithmancer, pushing magic further than it had ever gone before. I studied and became proficient in a number of subjects, both magical and muggle. However, there was one field which entranced me more than any other – temporal magic.

"When I was fifteen I created a device that could send the user backwards in time and then return them to the present." The people nodded – they had all heard of time-turners. He noticed this and shook his head.

"The devices you know as 'time-turners' are child's play compared to the instrument I had designed. A 'time-turner' is restricted to six to seven hours backwards. My device was able to sustain limitless backwards travel." Many were amazed – it was believed that it was impossible to manipulate time any further than a few hours without doing damage. Jonathan rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"However, I was arrogant and foolish – I was determined to test my device and travel farther than any man has ever done before – I wanted to push the boundaries, see history happen before my eyes…" He trailed off with a sigh.

"I made a complete balls-up. I realised afterward that I made several arithmantic miscalculations which caused some of the runes to malfunction." The room hung on his every word.

"I suppose in some ways the device_ did _work; I technically travelled through time. However, the device created a paradox of epic proportions. In an instant, every single possible version of 'me' collided, creating a single form; this form." He gestured to himself with his hands.

"As I exist now, I am my own past, present and future. Every single possible version of me merged together creating a temporal anomaly." He drummed his hand on the table.

"At the time, I thought my device had simply failed to activate, so I tried to fix it. However, whenever I tried to use the device, nothing would happen. I understand now, that it is because I am not a fixed point in time at a certain age." The people were mystified. He sighed and tapped his chin.

"How to explain…" he paused "…right, all time travel works by creating a sort of…'bubble' around the person. The device basically suspends time within the bubble, registering the date you came from. That's why when you travel back in time using a time-turner regularly; your body doesn't age with the added hours. Do you understand?" They nodded.

"Right, well, because all temporal versions of me collided into a single form, the device cannot isolate the specific age of my body, therefore it cannot transport me back." Realisation dawned on a few of the brighter people's faces but others remained mystified. Deciding to move on, he flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Anyway, I didn't notice my error until a few years down the line when I was hit by a rogue spell from a pair of duellers. The spell was akin to the flesh rotting curses of today," many people in the room shuddered, "and it set to work almost immediately. I spent five minutes in tremendous pain with no one around with a counter-curse. Finally, as my organs began to fail, when I should have died, a bright flash filled the room and my body…I suppose 'reset' would be a good word…my body 'reset' itself, to a time before I had been hit by the curse." He scratched his head thoughtfully.

"I spent several years studying the phenomenon which has trapped my form, but could not and cannot discover what had gone wrong. I simply cannot die, nor can I age. So, after years of fruitless labour, I moved on and changed identities, leaving my old life behind and becoming someone new, hence the name Jonathan Weaver." He lent back in his chair and looked around the room.

"So that's my story – science experiment gone wrong – the answer to the question of immortality." He snorted derisively. The room was silent, until Lily coughed lightly.

"Er, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" His brow furrowed into a frown.

"Well, officially, I am still fifteen, as I never aged any further. But unofficially…hmm, what year is it?" He said. "I stopped counting after a while."

"The year is 1978." Albus said simply. Weaver nodded and looked to the ceiling while thinking.

"Well, I will have been on earth for…nine hundred and forty six years." Everyone in the room gasped.

"Wait, you were born in the year 1032?" Sirius asked sceptically.

"Yes. I was born October 28th 1032. My parents were Isabelle Middleway nee Denton and Adrian Middleway, both of magical origin, and my birth name was Antony Darius Middleway." He said simply. While many believed his story, there were a few, Mad-eye included, who looked sceptically at the man.

"Right, well I've told you who I am, so now you should do the same…whether you believe me or not." Jonathan glared at Alastor who grunted. Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked at him intently.

"We are a group known as the Order of the Phoenix, dedicated to the combat of the darkness and evil known as Lord Voldemort." Jonathan snorted at the flinches from the dark lord's name.

"Bloody hell, it's only a name! Not even his real one anyway…" Dumbledore raised his eyebrow in surprise.

"So, the fabled Order of the Phoenix. I've heard a lot about you people…although I don't see why… you…oh. You want me to fight with you, don't you?" He said with a sigh.

"Indeed, Jonathan. When you were first imprisoned, I was told by one of our spies that a single man had taken down an attack group of twenty five death eaters in a few minutes." He snorted and laughed a bit.

"Yeah, that was me. I've been running and fighting my entire life and I finally got careless. I can't believe one of them got be with a _stunner_, a bloody _stunner_!" He shook his head in disgust at himself. Around the table, people gawped at him – this man had taken down twenty five of the dark lord's best men in a few minutes.

"Anyway, while I do respect you lot for fighting Voldie while others are cowering, he's not really my problem." A few people blinked at him in surprise. "What? Yeah I was his prisoner, but as we've established I cannot die, so eventually I would have gotten away from that cell, fine and dandy." This statement got him a few angry glares, and Alastor snapped at him.

"Oh yeah, you think you're beyond our problems? This affects everyone, boy, not just us…" Before he could continue, Jonathan slammed his hands down on the table and stood up.

"DON'T, CALL, ME, _BOY._" He snarled. "I have been around for a lot longer than any of you…compared to me, you are _all _children! I may look young, but that is because I choose to. This temporal version of me is the peak of my physical forms."

To demonstrate the point, he morphed into a young boy, between nine and ten, and then an old man, akin to Dumbledore, before reverting to his original form. Alastor growled at the less than respectful scolding and his wand hand twitched. Weaver noticed and he glared at the grizzled auror.

"I know more magic than even Mr Dumbledore himself; I could almost certainly wipe the floor with you, _Moody_."

"ENOUGH." Dumbledore boomed. Alastor glanced at Albus before sighing and sinking into his seat. Jonathan simply sat back and steepled his fingers together. "Mr Weaver…Jonathan, we require your assistance in this war." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Did you not hear me? This is not my fight! I have no mind for the petty politics of this country or this world. Voldemort is a cancer, yes, but my action or inaction will not lead to any major change." He said firmly. Albus sighed and stared intently at the man.

"You are wrong Jonathan; your contribution would make a huge difference to the light – not only have you been alive for nearly a millennia but because you are extremely brilliant and specialise in a number of magical and muggle areas. Your assistance would be invaluable." Weaver sat back and steepled his fingers once more. "What would it take for you to join us as an ally?" Jonathan looked up and narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore.

"You think to _bribe_ me?" His scarlet eyes flashed in anger and many people in the room flinched at the sight. "You, Albus Dumbledore, have nothing I want." Said man raised an eyebrow and leant forward.

"I could help you with your…_predicament_." He said simply. Weaver stared at him before bursting into laughter.

"You…you _honestly_ think…you could solve a problem the… the best minds of my time and the modern age couldn't solve?" He asked amidst laughing. Dumbledore's face remained emotionless but a red faced, red haired woman stood up pointing at the man.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our age, you egotistical fool!" Molly Weasley screamed shrilly. His eyes snapped to hers and he smirked at her.

"Madam, Albus may be the greatest wizard of _your_ age, but in my eyes he is only average at best. In my years I have met several people who easily surpass him in knowledge and skill who have all been thwarted by my condition – I doubt he has anything new to offer." Dumbledore sighed and nodded.

"I do accept that I am not an all-powerful wizard, but that does not mean a fresh set of eyes will do you no good. An ordinary person can spot something which has been overlooked by the greatest geniuses." He sat quiet for a moment, as he thought.

After a few minutes, he looked around the room at the faces of the people there. As his eyes jumped from face to face, he came across the four who had shaken his hand at the beginning, Lily, James, Sirius and Remus. There was something in their eyes, different from the others, which intrigued him. Finally, his eyes met Dumbledore's and he smiled.

"Alright…you are fighting for a good cause and I guess I could help you." His eyes suddenly turned cold and serious. "However, I refuse to be caged up. I will go where I please." Albus nodded. His eyes regained their twinkle and he grinned. "Oh and don't think about sending me on suicide missions just because I can't die!" That got a laugh from some of the order members, including Alastor. Dumbledore stood up and held out his hand with a smile on his face.

"Very well, Jonathan. I am glad you have chosen to help us. Let me be the first to welcome you to the Order of the Phoenix."

* * *

There we are! Decided to change the O.C. a little bit so he hasn't as much of a dick. I hope you enjoyed reading! I will be posting the next chapter very soon!

**This is the Quill, signing off!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: The Life and Times of Antony Middleway.**

Hello readers! I realise I haven't updated this story very often so I have decided to give you a nice chunk of chapter! I have worked on this quite a bit, making sure that everything is good before publishing. I am sure there will still be errors!

This chapter gives more of a background to the 'Immortal Man', tracking his long life. I have made sure to double check all info I have used in this story! At the bottom of the page is a key which relate to certain parts of the story. You will be able to see the numbers!

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Date: 29th July 1978

Location: Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

Time: 12:05pm

"You do know that's an awful habit, don't you?" A feminine voice asked softly.

For the past few days, Jonathan Weaver aka Antony Middleway had spent most of his time occupying the library of the Order Headquarters, sitting in a plush armchair by the fireplace, studying the many books the place had to offer. However, during his extended stay on Earth, he had sadly read most of them several times.

Currently, he had contented himself reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, while smoking an ordinary looking muggle pipe. In response to her question/statement, he bent the opened paper halfway down to he could see who had addressed him and let out an half annoyed half amused sigh.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"You do realise you are the…" he paused for a moment, pretending to count in his head "…ninth person to make that remark since this morning?" She tried to keep an innocent mask but it cracked with a twitch of her lips. He chuckled.

"I bet James, Sirius, Peter and Remus put you up to this, didn't they?" He glanced at the door, just to see some faces dart away from where they had been looking. Lily giggled in amusement.

"Sorry; they made me ask, I couldn't help it!" He shook his head and folded up the paper, taking the pipe out of his mouth.

"Oh dear, the marauders have corrupted Lily!" He feigned a look of horror. "There isn't hope for any of us!" Sniggers drifted in from outside the door and the four men joined them.

"No, Lily could _never_ be as corrupt as us!" Sirius remarked while laughing. Lily mock glared at him before replying.

"That's good then, otherwise who would keep you four in check?" Sirius swallowed slightly at the look she was giving him and the other three laughed.

"So, did you four actually want anything, other than berating me about my habit?" John said with a mock pout. Lily frowned slightly.

"Well, we do have a good point." He pouted.

"Sorry mum…" he mumbled, a little too loudly, warranting him a glare from Lily and sniggers from the other three.

"Hey, I've had to keep these immature children in line for years now. Be afraid; I can make the marauders scared with a single glare." The men behind her shook their heads while smirking, but when Lily turned around they stopped and gave her sickly sweet innocent smiles. John swallowed slightly and pulled his collar.

"Well, I, er, I don't smoke cigarettes and such, but I do enjoy a good pipe once in a while. Helps me think and relax." The marauders laughed seeing him scared of Lily like they were. She frowned slightly.

"Still, it can't be much good for your body, can it?" He grinned slightly and shrugged.

"It's one of the consequences of my…_situation_. Since I am in control of what age I choose to be, things with long term consequences, such as smoking, have no effect on my body." He grinned sheepishly. "This has of course helped me pick up some…bad habits over the last millennia." He leant back thoughtfully.

"I actually started smoking at some point after 1750. I was a bit of a ruffian back then, trying new things, drinking down the local tavern nearly every night…" He trailed off as he got caught up in memories. A cough from Lily brought him back to reality. "Sorry, got a bit carried away there." He looked at them all. "So, _is _there something you wanted to talk about?" They went silent for a moment, before Remus answered.

"Well, you've been a member of the Order for a few days and we…well, we don't know much about you. Generally, we tend to get to know new members as quick as possible." John nodded.

"So, what, you want to ask me about my life?" They nodded. "Well, go ahead then, I don't really mind. There are a few things I don't want to talk about but I'll tell you if we start to drift into the more…painful memories I have." They nodded with sympathetic faces.

"Well, you know I was born October 28th 1032?" They nodded. "Right; I told you about my younger years…basically studying and learning." Another round of nods "Well, after that I just travelled. Started in Britain, went to Europe, Asia, Africa; I just generally travelled, learning as much as possible, while trying to fix my condition." He sat back as he thought.

"I did that for about four hundred, five hundred years before I came back home. I spent some time knocking around London for a while, watching time pass and things change as quickly as the seasons." He paused before grinning. "I met Shakespeare." They were all agape and he chuckled.

"You met the greatest playwright ever?" Lily asked breathlessly. He nodded before frowning.

"Well, I say met; I didn't know him personally. A friend of mine told me about this guy who was writing plays which were very popular. I wasn't really a theatre type person, but I decided to have a look." He paused. "I think it was…1554, or 1594, one of the two."

"So, what did you go and see?" Peter asked curiously.

"Oh, it was Romeo and Juliet; cracking good play."1 They were gobsmacked. "Even though it was a tragedy, it got a lot of laughs at the funny bits, me included." He frowned. "It's a shame that people these days don't get _why_ the jokes were funny. When you go to a Shakespearian production these days, people just…watch. They don't laugh; they don't heckle, cheer or boo…just watch. That's _not_ how the plays were meant to be seen." He shook his head and continued.

"Anyway, I digress. The years passed, things changed, but I stayed in London, changing my identity every so often." They nodded in rapt attention. "As I mentioned before, 1700-1800 I went…a little crazy." He smiled slightly. "I started smoking and drinking…" He paused. "Well, I mean I _had_ tried drinking before, but I mean excessive drinking. I went a little off the deep end." He sighed a little. "I was just tired of watching everything pass without me going along with it. People I knew came and went so quickly it drove me mad." Lily spoke softly.

"Did you ever find…someone special?" His eyes tear'd up slightly.

"Yeah; yeah I did." He shook his head. "That's one of my painful memories…I'll keep that to myself if you don't mind." The four others nodded sympathetically.

"Anyway, I did eventually recover. I launched myself into studying the new breakthroughs magicals and muggles had made, experimenting with them. Of course, I needed to find somewhere to perform my research." They nodded.

"I found this great apartment in the city which I fell in love with instantly." He smiled in memory. "Proper Victorian style deco…not that I knew it was at the time…" He chuckled "…and it was really cheap to rent…well, when I say cheap, I mean less expensive than nearly every other decent place in the city." They laughed slightly. "It was perfect for my work." He paused for a moment.

"So I moved in, performing my research in solitude…that is until I met Doyle." He frowned. "He never told me how he found me, but I figured he must have heard a rumour." He shook his head of those thoughts. "Anyway, at that point, the apartment above mine was free for rental, so he moved in and we became friends. He showed a real interest in my studies…my _muggle_ ones at any rate. Arthur stayed there for about ten years before he simply up and left." Lily's eyes widened.

"Wait. Arthur Doyle? That wouldn't happen to be Arthur _Conan_ Doyle, would it?"2 He looked at her and smiled.

"Who's that?" Sirius asked simply, getting an agreeing nod from James, Peter and Remus. Lily looked at them gobsmacked before sighing in exasperation.

"Honestly, you four are so uncultured." She said in frustration. Sirius pretended to look affronted.

"Hey, I knew who Shakespeare was!" She shook her head at him.

"I think I would be very disturbed if you didn't!" He quietened up after that. John chuckled at the byplay before continuing.

"A very astute guess, Mrs Potter." She blushed. "Yes, that was his name." She recovered and began peppering him with questions.

"What was he like? Was he nice? Did you see him write any of his stories?" He frowned and sighed. "What's wrong?" She asked softly.

"Well, let me answer by telling you where we lived." They nodded. "The apartment I fell in love with was on Baker Street." The other three looked confused but Lily's eyes widened.

"Wait…you lived with Arthur Conan Doyle on Baker Street?" She asked sceptically. He grinned and nodded.

"That's right; Apartment 221b to be precise." She still looked unconvinced.

"But isn't that address fictional?"3 She asked. He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I hope not, or I was living in an imagined address for forty years!" They all laughed. Lily decided to clarify what had been said.

"So; you lived at 221b Baker Street, with Arthur Conan Doyle living in the flat above, right when he was about to start writing the Sherlock Holmes books?" The other three's eyes widened.

"Ohhh!" Peter exclaimed loudly, finally getting the author's name in his mind. Lily shook her head in shame, while the three other men chuckled.

"Yes Lily, that's correct." She suddenly remembered something.

"So why did you frown before?" He looked a bit sheepish.

"Well, this bit will sound arrogant." They wordlessly pushed him to continue. "Well, you see, Doyle got the idea for Holmes from me. Specifically, he based the character _on _me." Lily was gobsmacked.

"B-but…y-you and…H-Holmes?" She sputtered incoherently. James chuckled.

"I think you broke her, John." She span around sending a glare to her husband who shrank into his seat. John laughed at them, before sitting back and puffing his pipe in thought. Lily recovered and turned back to him.

"But Holmes was a detective for Scotland Yard…" She began.

"That's not completely accurate: he was a _consulting _detective, not one specifically in the employment of Scotland Yard." She nodded. "Well, as a very knowledgeable, scientific and logical individual, I offered my assistance to the police several times when they were struggling over a specific case. I also did a bit of private freelance work." He suddenly had an afterthought. "Of course, I didn't do _any_ of the cases that Doyle wrote about. They were the fruit of his extremely brilliant mind." The four of them nodded.

"When did you find out about the books?" Remus asked interestedly. John laughed slightly, puffing away on his pipe.

"Well, in 1886, about four years after he left, I noticed a book in a window display with his name on it, the…Scarlet Study? Something along those lines."4 He waved his hand, suggesting that it didn't matter. "I bought a copy and took it home to read." He huffed in annoyance. "While the average person wouldn't make the connection, I saw it for what it was: me by another name." The four laughed at his embarrassment and he gave them a playful glare.

"That's not the worst of it; people began to send a _fictional _character _fan mail_!" He said incredulously. "As I still lived as Baker Street, I got barraged with hundreds of letters asking what my next case would be." He shook his head.

"I must admit, I did find it rather endearing that these people loved the character so much that so many wrote to the address to speak with him. I didn't want them to be disappointed to I sent replies to my 'fans' whenever I could." He sighed. "But by that point, I had already spent too long at the address and needed to move on." They nodded.

"Lily, you said before that you thought the address fictional?" She nodded. "That was my doing. I had become attached to the house, but the area around it was being re-developed. I didn't want to see the house simply destroyed, so I put it under strong wards, erasing all knowledge of it _actually_ existing from the muggles." He sat back. "I didn't want people to miss out on the replies from Holmes, so I redirected the post to the Halifax Bank on the corner of the street and cast a compulsion on the manager to hire someone to return the letters to Holmes' fans. So, after all was said and done, I left my flat and moved onto pastures anew…"5 He snorted and laughed a bit.

"Actually, that's a load of bollocks." They looked at him curiously. "Alright, tell me, what happened at the beginning of the twentieth century?" They looked thoughtful before paling in realisation.

"World War One." Lily answered quietly. John nodded grimly.

"Right in one. I ended up getting myself drafted." They looked at him in horror. "Yeah, since they had no records on me, they assumed I was a draft-dodger." Lily swallowed before speaking.

"So…so was this one of the…_painful_ memories?" She asked quietly.

"Parts of it were, to be sure. So I simply won't go into detail." He took a deep breath before speaking. "I was part of the British Expeditionary Force that went over to France." He grimaced. "It was wiped out very early on. I was one of the few members who survived to be reassigned…no one decided to question how I always seemed to come out alive." He laughed darkly.

"I was reassigned to Kitchener's 'new army'." He paused. "Have you heard of the Battle of the Somme?" Lily nodded hesitantly, paling rapidly. "I was there. So much death…it was brutal, to say the least."6 His face brightened up a little as a thought came to mind.

"It was at the Somme were I met Tolkien." Lily's eyes snapped to his as she gaped.

"You mean _the_ Tolkien? JRR Tolkien?" He laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, although he wasn't famous back then; he was a Signals Officer. We got to chatting and became friends. He was a very talented poet at that stage."7 He sighed. "We were separated after the battle ended on 18th November 1916. Our divisions went different ways." He puffed a bit more on his pipe.

"I think it was…1949 when I saw his name again. Of course, that was when he finished 'The Lord of the Rings' books." He grinned. "I decided to track him down, see if he still remembered me. Turns out he did. We had a chat and caught up on old times." He laughed. "I told him how much of a fan I was of his work. To say he was delighted was an understatement. Tolkien gave me one of his own handwritten copies, signed by him!"8 Lily looked like she was about to pass out. "I don't think he realised how treasured they would be in the future." The five laughed slightly.

"Then I…wait a moment, just realised I forgot to mention something. I served in World War Two as well." He shivered. "While the first was more messy and painful, I think the second gave me the most nightmares…a hellish time. I remember when our division liberated one of the concentration camps…" He trailed off. All four of the people listening to his story had new found admiration for their friend, after hearing what he had lived through.

"Well, enough of those memories. They can stay locked away in my mind." He grinned. "Right, so after the war I came back home, moved into my current home and assumed my current identity." He paused in thought. "Hang on a moment; I don't suppose any of you know what _happened_ to my house? After the death eaters got me I didn't hear anything about it." They glanced at each other.

"Well…the death eaters…they…" James paused. "…well, they burned it to the ground. There was nothing left when the Aurors were called." He looked pained for a moment, before a smile crossed his face.

"Willow!" The other three looked confused before a house-elf appeared in the library. Said elf then proceeded to throw himself at John while sobbing.

"Oh Master, you's is alive! I thought the death muncher's had caught you!" The four marauders laughed at the elf's name for Voldemort's minions. John patted the elf on the head and smiled.

"Sorry about that Willow; technically I _was_ captured." She looked shocked before bursting into tears.

"I's so sorry master, I couldn't be helping's you!" She sobbed. He knelt down and gave the elf a hug.

"Stop it Willow, you did nothing wrong. The protections they had on me prevented my being rescued magically." She sniffed but controlled her emotions. "Now, did you do what I asked when they attacked?" She brightened up and she nodded frantically.

"Yes's Master Middleway; I moved all the houses belongings into expandable trunks and put them in your vault at Gringrotts." He grinned and patted the elf affectionately.

"Excellent job Willow, so nothing got left behind?" She shook her head. He looked back at the other four in the room. "Well, there we are; all the death eaters destroyed was an empty house." Sirius looked confused for a moment, before speaking.

"Er, John, why did your house-elf call you 'Master Middleway'?" John blinked before thinking back to what his elf had said. His eyes widened before turning to Willow.

"Willow, did you call me Master Middleway?" She confused and nodded in affirmation.

"Yes's I did. Is that wrong?" John sat back down and puffed on his pipe worriedly. Lily looked him in concern.

"John, what does that mean? Is it bad?" He sighed and nodded.

"When a house-elf bonds to a master they will always call them by their proper name and title. All the years I've had an elf, they have always called me by my alias, generally 'Master Something'. For some reason, my official title has changed, which means…" He paled. "…the Goblins know that I'm a Middleway." All four of them looked confused.

"Well, is that bad?" He nodded seriously.

"Well yes. The Middleway line has been dead for nearly five hundred years." They gasped.

"But couldn't you say that you were a distant relative?" Lily asked John curiously, but James answered.

"Lily, the Goblins have the most accurate records in existence. They normally only keep them for the oldest pureblood families, but they can go back for over one thousand years. If a line is dead, then they would know about it, including any distant relatives." John nodded.

"The Middleway family is one of the oldest families around. It was even fairly old before I had been born. We were very wealthy and had titles in the magical and mundane worlds. I did keep up-to-date on the family while I was hiding, watching it prosper under my relatives." He paused. "The majority of the line was killed in a war…I can't remember which one it was…those that survived died off soon after, leaving a family with no members…bar me." He sat back and thought.

"How did you get around the Goblin records?" Remus asked.

"I was able to fool them by casting a spell I created on myself which prevents _any_ records being kept, both magical and muggle. Officially, Antony Middleway never died, just ceased to exist on file. That probably means that for five hundred years they have been looking for the missing heir: me." He puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. "For some reason, the spell has failed. I believe I might have Voldemort to thank for that. He must have done something with the knowledge of who I am." He sighed tiredly.

"I think I need to pay a visit to Gringrotts."

* * *

Date: 31st July 1978

Location: Diagon Alley

Time: 1:30pm

The heavy rain splashed off the cobbles on a completely deserted street. As he walked down the narrow road known as Diagon Alley, he shook his head at the dilapidated state to which it had fallen.

It reminded him of various disaster films he had seen; shops closed and empty, windows and doors boarded up, bits of rubbish blowing around…the street was completely devoid of any life what so ever. With a shiver, he pulled his hood further over his head and made his way to Gringrotts.

The Goblin run bank was the only building which looked like it was still open. As he climbed the marble steps, he glanced at the rhyme on a plinth by the door:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

He laughed slightly when he read that. It was no wonder that Gringrotts was the only place still open; it would take a disaster of apocalyptic proportions for the Goblins to miss even a day's worth of business. Standing by the closed wooden doors, he lifted the knocker, giving three loud raps. The door creaked open and as he stepped inside, it closed softly behind him.

Before he could so much as breathe, four well armoured Goblins surrounded him with their pikes pointed at his neck. He stood there, unmoving, until another Goblin, one of the tellers, walked over to him, eying him carefully.

"Greetings and welcome to Gringrotts. I'm afraid that due to these…_difficult_ _times_, I must ask you to drop your hood and surrender your wand. Is this agreeable?" The man smiled and nodded.

"It is indeed."

Moving slowly, so as to not get himself impaled on a pike, he pulled down his hood, revealing his face. He then pulled his wand out of its holster and placed it into the tray held by the teller Goblin. Said Goblin smiled, before clicking his fingers.

"Thank you for co-operating. You will be given your wand back when your business is concluded here." The man nodded as the Goblin guards surrounding him stepped back with the click of the fingers, and returned to their posts.

The teller walked back to his desk and he followed. As he walked, he glanced around at the various Goblins at their desks, going about their various tasks. The sounds of coins jangling and the recurring thud of a stamp were the only noises in the space. As he expected, there were no other wizards or witches in the bank.

"Do you have any business you wish to discuss with us today?" The teller asked politely, and he nodded.

"Yes I do. I would like to enquire about my family finances." The Goblin nodded.

"Very well, what is your full name, please?" He asked, picking up a piece of parchment and quill.

"Antony Darius Middleway." There was a crash as a large pile of coins a clerk had been counting had fallen over. Every Goblin in the bank looked toward the wizard, in complete silence. The teller spluttered slightly.

"M-m-middleway?" He asked nervously. He nodded. Before any more could be said, a door crashed open and a young Goblin ran in with a piece of parchment. The teller took it, reading it quickly, before looking back to the wizard.

"Director Ragnok wishes to speak with you Mr Middleway." The wizard smiled and nodded.

"And I would be honoured to accept his invitation." The teller spoke to the young Goblin in gobbledygook who then turned to wizard.

"Follow me please." The small Goblin scampered off with the wizard following closely.

They walked down a wide marble corridor, the walls lined with books and draws. As they walked, he noticed various pieces of parchment filing themselves in the correct places, and others being withdrawn and flying off down the way he had just came. Eventually, they came to a large oak door with a gold knocker. The smaller Goblin rapped on the door three times and a voice from within answered.

"Enter." The doors opened and the younger Goblin stood to one side allowing the wizard entrance. He took a few steps in, the doors closing behind him, and glanced around the room.

It was a large, ornate office, with a large fireplace and bookshelves lining nearly every single inch of wall space. In the centre of the room was a large oak desk, with an elderly Goblin sitting behind it. The wizard bowed to him with a smile, not making eye contact and without showing his teeth.

"Greetings Director Ragnok; may your life be filled to the brim with riches and may your enemies feel your wrath." The elderly Goblin smiled and bowed in return.

"And the same to you; may your life be filled to the brim with riches and may your blade be stained by your enemies blood." Ragnok directed the wizard to a seat with his hand, who took it with a 'thank you'. He then lifted a piece of parchment and read it quickly.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you are here to find out about your family finances…Mr Middleway?" The wizard nodded.

"That is part of it, yes. But the main reason for my being here is to…explain the current state of the records of the Middleway family." Ragnok nodded.

"Yes, it has been a very irritating point for us; a family line dies out, with no prospective heirs, yet the records refuse to acknowledge it as such." He picked up a folder and flicked through it. "Could you explain how this is?" The wizard nodded.

"Yes I can, but before I do, I think that if you look at the records for the family now, there will be a new addition which may give some explanation." Ragnok's eyebrows rose into his hairline at the answer.

After thinking for a moment, he pressed a button on his desk and a small Goblin ran into the study. After speaking to him in their language for a moment, he ran out again, only to return a few minutes later carrying a large old looking folder. Ragnok placed it on his desk and opened it in the middle. Flicking through for a few minutes, he froze as he read a name.

"_Antony Darius Middleway; D.O.B: October 28__th__ 1032, D.O.D…_" He paused. "…_Not Applicable."_ His eyes scoured the page for more information.

"The records must be incorrect, this man couldn't still be alive…but they have never been incorrect before…but if they are right he would be nearly millennia old…how can this be?" He asked himself quietly. The wizard sighed.

"Director; I can explain why there are inconsistencies in your records, but can I have my wand first? I wish to make a magical oath." Ragnok thought for a moment, before pressing the same button.

Like the first time, the small Goblin ran in before getting his instructions and running out again. He returned with the box which contained the wizard's wand. Looking to Ragnok, who nodded, he picked up his wand.

"I, Antony Darius Middleway, swear on my magic that all I am about to tell you is the truth, to the best of my knowledge, so mote it be." A flash signified the oath had taken affect, before he returned his wand to the box.

With another nod from Ragnok, the wizard began to tell him about the circumstances surrounding his life. Half an hour later, he finished his story and looked at the elderly Goblin, who looked rather shocked and pale. To confirm he still had his magic, he cast a diagnostic spell with his hand.

"Well…it appears that you still have your magic, which means all you told me was the truth." He sighed. "If you hadn't taken that oath, I wouldn't have believed a word of it." Antony smiled understandingly.

"I know what you mean; it does seem a little farfetched, doesn't it?" He sighed. "I would like to apologise in advance for all the trouble I've caused with your records. After the accident, I couldn't let anyone find out about me so I went on the run." Ragnok nodded.

"Understandable, Mr Middleway; you are a rather…unique individual. Rest assured though, that knowledge of what you are will not leave this bank." He smiled gratefully. "However, it would be prudent that we finally sort out the affairs of the Middleway family." He nodded sheepishly. Ragnok picked up another folder and flipped through it, before stopping at a certain page.

"Well, over the years you have been gone, the family became extremely wealthy thanks to a number of wise investments made by your descendants." He chuckled slightly at the last word. "Although the family lost the muggle titles it had gained when William the Conqueror abolished the old noble system, your family is one of the oldest most noble and ancient houses, so it has a lordship attached in the magical world." Antony nodded.

With a wave of his hand, a box appeared on his desk which he opened. Inside was a single ring with the Middleway family crest engraved: a coat of arms, divided into four, with a dragon or a phoenix in each section. Lifting it out of its box, he placed the ring on his finger and felt a rush of warmth as it connected to his magical core. Ragnok smiled and bowed to Antony.

"May I be the first to congratulate you on your title, Lord Middleway?" Antony bowed in return.

"Thank you, Director Ragnok." The Goblin smiled before looking back at the folder.

"Now, do you wish to see a full compiling of all your holdings and assets?" He thought for a moment, before nodding. "This could take a few days to assemble, so would it be agreeable if we forwarded this information to you at a later date?" He nodded. "Very well then, I believe that our business is concluded, unless there was something else?" He replied a negative.

"Thank you for your help, Director Ragnok." The Goblin smiled.

"You are very welcome Lord Middleway. Together, may our enemies fall to our blades and our vaults be filled to the brim with gold." Antony smiled back and bowed deeply.

Leaving Ragnok's office, he retraced his steps to the main entrance and retrieved his wand from the teller. With a bow from the guards, the doors opened and he stepped back out into the dark and unwelcoming place that was Diagon Alley.

* * *

Here is the information I promised!

1: While there are no surviving records of the exact date Romeo and Juliet was first performed, historians believe that 1597 is the most likely date.

2: Yes, for the fans of Sherlock Holmes out there, Antony Middleway did meet Arthur Conan Doyle before he began writing. Well, for the purposes of this fiction anyway!

3: I should point out, that 221b Baker Street _is_ fictional, although there is a rather nice museum where it should be in London.

4: Actually, the book name is 'A Study in Scarlet' but it _was_ published in 1886. It was the first book written by Doyle which included his character, Sherlock Holmes.

5: I would like to point out, that many fans did and still do write letters to the British Detective. Since the address is fictional, the letters did originally get sent to the Halifax Bank on Baker Street. The manager also hired a person just to answer the letters. However, the rights to receiving the letters were contested by the Sherlock Holmes museum, based nearby.

6: The historical information preceding this point is indeed accurate. You may check it if you want, I double checked it myself.

7: Yes, Tolkien was indeed a Signal Officer at the Battle of the Somme in 1916. He also wrote a lot of poetry regarding fighting in the war.

8: 'The Lord of the Rings' was originally published in 1947, but Tolkien continued to revise and improve them for years afterward. The books, as they exist today, were published in 1955 after many disputes with his publishers.

* * *

There we are! Chapter four! It was originally split into two, but I decided to combine it to make a better read. I hope you enjoyed it and please do review!

**This is the Quill, signing** **off!**


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